SQ Universe
by queenpearl
Summary: Brought over from Spacebattles. Here are a few one shots/short stories I'll crosspost here.
ARCTIC REGION, NORTH OF ALASKA MARCH 2009

2 years ago, Helen and Anna Angels had a bet. Whichever girl could best the other in a game of cat and mouse would earn an unlimited supply of a free alcohol of their choosing. Now both were trying their damned hardest to make good on that bet.

Helen slammed her fist down on her console in frustration, the first outward sign of emotion she'd shown this whole patrol. She could've sworn she'd heard Anna lurking out there somewhere and just when it seemed her sonar had it confirmed she disappeared again.

They'd been at this for days, with each coming within a hairsbreadth of winning only to find their efforts thwarted. Trying to listen for another submarine beneath the polar ice cap was near impossible. The ice creaked and cracked, it groaned and heaved as it moved with the current. Splitting and melting and fusing together again in an endless display of background noise. Trying to filter all that out and find a near quiet nuclear submarine was like trying to listen in to a diner conversation from across a city street in New York. It just couldn't. be. done.

Helen prided herself on her ears. All of her class did. The _Los Angeles_ -class boats were the most sophisticated submarine in the world when they were built and despite the introduction of the new _Seawolf_ -class, they were still top notch vessels. Sighing, the USS Helena's personification turned her attention back to her sonar screen and pressed her palms against her headphones, straining to hear even the slightest sound.

Younger sister Anna was having equal trouble. She thought she heard Helen off to the Southeast but then her sister ducked behind an ice flow and she lost the signal.

"Why oh why did it have to be the **Arctic** of all places to do these damned exercises in. We may as well be playing hide and go seek in New York!" She fumed.

Of course she knew _why._ The polar ice cap was the favorite hunting ground of Soviet submarines and it was of course every American sub's job to find said submarines. But to do that they needed practice hence these little games. Anna, Helen and all submarines understood the importance of these practice runs but that didn't mean they had to like them.

Anna's sonar picked up a faint signature and the personification quickly rushed to listen in herself. It sounded man made but it could be the station above the ice. Goodness knows it made itself known. Nonetheless, it warranted investigation and as Anna circled around behind the signature she thought she heard the distinctive sound of someone teasing her in a flat, annoying tone.

On board the _Helena_ Helen was grinning to herself. "Neener neener." She whispered again into a microphone that sent the sound out into the water. If she wasn't going to find Anna, she was going to bring Anna to her.

The _Annapolis'_ sonar technicians were still working on determining what they were hearing. If it was Helen, then she was being awfully quiet.

Helen on the other hand could hear Anna quite nicely until the moment she entered her baffles. Her towed array was useless in this environment because of all the shifting ice. But the personification knew exactly where her sister was relative to her position and those coordinates were now saved in her computer.

Anna's sonar failed to detect the sound of water flooding the torpedo tubes as hers were flooded at the same time. Before she could launch, she did hear and felt something slam against her hull with a muffled "CLANG!"

"What the hell was that?" She wondered. Ice was her first assumption but if it was ice then why hadn't her hull been punctured.

Then over her underwater radio came music. Her crew groaned and Anna groaned, pressing her face into her hands. "I will **never** live this down." She moaned while one young ensign gave her a soothing pat on the back. She now knew what the sound against her hull was.

It was Helen's dummy torpedoes and the music was Pavarotti.

...

Two months later Helena Angels was in a local bar on the Ballard Seattle warf, swapping sea tales with some of the other personifications there. To her immediate left sat Johann Paulina Jones-Burke, the personification of the _Arleigh Burke-_ class destroyer _USS John Paul Jones._ To her right was Lani Angels, her class pathfinder. Helena was gladly telling them of her win over Anna when the bar door opened with a bang.

Helen wouldn't have turned around normally and she immediately wished she didn't once she did. Irene Franklin strode in, practically radiating envy.

"Which one of you lil' fuckers won the bet?!" She asked.

True to their nature, not one submarine said a word. Instead they all pointed to Helena Angels. Lani's finger jabbed her chest. Helen shot them all a glare before deciding to muster up her courage and face down the fuming battleship persona. She stood up out of her seat.

Irene's eyes were hard as she growled "whatever juice it is, glass now! Move your little ass there fucker. This big mouth ain't gonna wait all fucking day!"

Helen was tempted to tell Irene where she could put her big mouth but the look in her eyes told her to keep her mouth shut. Wordlessly she went back to the bar and the bartender brought out a full jar of whiskey.

Irene's eyes lit up. "The good ol' American honey! Guaranteed to make fuckers into bigger fuckers!"  
She took a swallow before eyeing Helen. "What's your name lil fucker?" She asked.

Helen suppressed a sigh. "Helen, Helen Angels of the _USS Helena (SSN-735)."_ She replied, holding out her hand. Irene's grip was vice hard as she took it. And just like that, the _Los Angeles-_ class submarine gained a drinking buddy.


End file.
